Fly
by margroks
Summary: Clark had been flying rather fast...and sheep were really stupid...and Clark...just wanted to watch the sunrise...


The rights to the characters of Smallville belong to its producers, the WB Network and DC Comics; the characters of JAG belong to Bellasario Productions and CBS Entertainment; I own them not.

FLY

It was the summer of his eighteenth year and Clark Kent had discovered something miraculous.  There had been many other things that truly amazed him but this one was in a category all by itself.  He had discovered that the bonds of gravity no longer held him.  Clark could leap out of his loft window and soar across the lush green fields of his parents' farm at breakneck speed whenever he felt like it.  He had found that, if he so desired, he could simply rise up into the air as high as he wanted to go and stay there as long as he pleased. 

 Of course, he had to be either very fast or very careful to avoid being seen and so far Clark had been largely successful.  The incident with the neighbor's sheep really wasn't his fault; sheep were so stupid and flighty, anyway.   He _had_ been skimming the fields rather low and fast that day but it hadn't been long after he had realized the full extent of this new ability so he was pretty excited and, well, when he topped that little rise and flew right into the herd they had scattered everywhere.  That wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't gone right through Mrs. Mulhaney's prized heritage rose garden, flattening everything in their path.  After that, they had all headed off across the nearby soybean field where, to his credit, Clark had tried to shoo them back toward home.  When the aggrieved gardener had appeared, broom in hand, to do battle with the ravagers of her flowers and her husband followed with his shotgun, Clark had quickly fled back in the direction of home.  Mrs. Mulhaney's shrieks and several rounds of buckshot had followed him as he tore across the fields heading for the safety of his barn loft.

He had flown off in the direction of Burnham Woods, thinking he might better avoid detection by taking an indirect route and skimming the treetops.  As he neared the far side of the woods, he had noticed the circus troupe setting up in its traditional spot.  An elephant trumpeted, a woman screamed and began to wail and Clark had dropped down to take a look.  He'd tried to appear casual as he walked up to see what the commotion was all about.  Suddenly, he had been confronted with a pack of pink miniature poodles, all wearing matching pink tutus and leaping up into the air in an absolute frenzy of barking and snapping. 

 Their apparent owner was holding one small pink tutu and wailing, "My poor little FiFi!  She's lost!  My baby's gone!  Oooohhhh!!!!" 

A little voice in the back of Clark's mind had been telling him to walk away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.  He walked over to the wailing woman, through the pink poodles who began nipping at his ankles and ripping his pant legs.  "What happened?  Uh, where did your…dog…disappear?"

She had pointed a trembling finger toward the trees and said, "The elephant scared her!  She ran into the haunted woods!"  She handed the tiny pink tutu over to him and cried, "That's all that's left!"   That admission brought a new round of wailing for her lost FiFi and Clark had tried to reassure her that he would find her little lost dog.  He walked closer to the tree line, dragging several of the little dogs, now firmly attached to his pant legs like tiny pink pitbulls, with him.  He scanned the woods and quickly spotted the missing pooch.  

"Um, I think I can get her but could you please call your other…babies back?" he'd begged.  

"Come Cherubs, come to Mommy!  Let the nice man bring FiFi home to us."  With that, they had all let go and Clark ran off into the woods at almost superspeed.  Moments later he had returned with the beloved poodle and backed away in haste as the woman threatened to smother him with kisses in reward.  As he turned to leave, the ungrateful FiFi launched herself into the air and chomped down on the seat of Clark's pants, ripping a sizable hole in the very back.  With that he had taken off toward the woods at top speed, damning the consequences.

As soon as he was back in the woods, Clark had leaped up into the sky and headed for home, his pants flapping in the breeze.  He had spooked a coyote and some wild turkeys on his mad dash away from the pink poodle lady and he could see them running through the woods down below; it almost looked as though the turkeys were chasing the coyote.  That brought a smirk to his lips_; it had just been that kind of day,_ _hadn't it?  _Just as he flew over the far edge of the woods, he looked below him and saw Lex Luthor's Jaguar traveling in the same direction, at a surprisingly leisurely pace.  Clark had quickly changed directions again and headed back toward the marshy land at the edge of Burnham Woods.  He had planned on hiding in some tall bushes near an overgrown pond there but had lost control at the last minute and crashed down heavily in the pond itself, sending a tidal wave of water up over the high banks surrounding it.  He noted, with clinical detachment, that weeds, a great number of frogs, and even some fish had been launched into the air, as well.  Most of them seemed to have landed on the other side of the bank, probably in the ditch.  Clark sat still in the middle of the pond for several minutes, as a few frogs and fish plopped down around him.  After a time, he had decided to get up, although it had been really rather peaceful and he'd been tempted to just lie back in the water and stay there for a while.

He ran back through the marsh until he was well away from the road, then took to the air again, and had really tried to stay low to the ground.  As he approached Lana's house, he had noticed their horses running up and down and rearing up at the old gate by the road.  Mr. Mulhaney's shotgun had probably scared them all.  Unfortunately, he had flown a little too close to the paddock, frightening their big stallion into crashing through the rickety gate.  The whole herd had then taken off down the road in the direction of the woods.

Clark had almost made it back when he had seen a familiar car driving down Hickory Lane; Pete and Chloe were heading his way.  Instantly, he had turned back in the opposite direction, intending to set down behind a hill in the far pasture, well out of sight.  He had skidded on landing (_he just couldn't seem to get the landing thing down that day_), smashed through a section of fence and ended up face down in the mud, in front of their largest bull.  Luke was a descendant of the old bull the Kents had owned when Clark first came to them, and, true to his lineage, was quite temperamental.  Clark remembered rising up on his elbows just as the bull charged; Luke's repeated attempts to gore him had badly shredded his shirt.  He'd managed to get his hands on the bull's horns and flipped onto his broad back as Luke took off through the broken fence.  Luke's wild charge had spooked the rest of the herd and they had all headed out across the field nearest the Kent farmhouse.  

He had seen Pete and Chloe pulling into the driveway and realized there was nothing he could do to stop the stampede with them so close.  Clark could still remember the looks on their faces as he passed by them, covered with mud, his shirt in tatters, being carried off across the pasture by the enraged bull.  Finally, he had let himself be thrown off by the bucking bull, rolling several times for good measure, and his friends had come running.  He had lain on the ground watching the herd crest the hill and pass out of sight.  Clark had rolled over and stared up at the clear blue sky for a while, wishing he were back up in it.  When he did stand up, he staggered a bit (_that had been a nice touch; maybe he should consider acting_), and headed off to the house, muttering angrily.  That part was no act; he was ready to kill that stupid bull and any pink poodles he ever encountered again.  Sheep were definitely on the list, too, and horses, frogs and elephants deserved their doom, as well, as far as he was concerned.  Once inside, his mother had informed him that Luke had gone as far as Fred Smith's farm and trampled his (_stupid_, in Clark's opinion) square watermelon patch.

After Chloe and Pete had gone (Pete had driven off really fast, he remembered) he'd stomped around upstairs for a while.  Eventually, he'd had to come back down and go get the bull because his dad had been over in Russell Springs buying cattle.  He hadn't bothered to change before he went over to the Smith place; he didn't even care at that point.  Once he'd gotten out of Fred Smith's sight, he'd grabbed the bull by one horn and practically dragged him back.  As he got near their farm Clark had pulled the tiny pink tutu from his pocket where he had absentmindedly stashed it and wove it around the bull's nose ring, seeing it as a kind of karmic revenge.  That had actually made him feel a little better until he saw Lex Luthor pull into the driveway up ahead. _ Lex could be so nosy, at times, and on that day, he just wasn't in the mood._

As Clark had come closer he saw that Lex, normally impeccably dressed at all times, was soaking wet and smelled like rank weeds and fish.  In fact, there had been two fish laying in a deep puddle of brown water on the passenger side floorboard of his car.  Clark and Lex had stood and stared at each other for a long moment.  A sudden movement in Lex's jacket pocket had caught his eye and a bullfrog had jumped out of his pocket onto the ground, making froggie noises as it hopped away down the drive.  

The uneasy silence had stretched out between them until Lex had finally asked, "Are you okay?  What happened to you?"

"It's nothing, really; I'm fine.  The bull got out."  He had stared at Lex and finally asked, "What happened to you?"

"I'm not sure."

 He looked into the Jag.  "What's in the floorboard, Lex?"

"Lunch."

 After another minute or two of silence, Clark had excused himself, saying he had to put the bull away.  He had turned and walked off, not even looking back.  He heard Lex head back down the drive and make a hard turn onto Hickory Lane.  He'd been going really fast by the time he'd reached the first curve past their house.  Clark had sincerely hoped Lex wouldn't run off any bridges on the way home.  _He just really wasn't in the mood._

*** 

          Looking back, he could see the humor in it all (sort of) but at the time he had been really ticked.  That little escapade had taught him a lesson, though, and he had decided to restrict his flying time to dawn or dusk, as a precaution.  Those were actually the most beautiful times to be up among the clouds, anyway, and this morning was no exception.  Clark did a few leisurely barrel rolls, trying to kill some time while he waited for the sunrise.  He could see the bright lights of Metropolis off to the north, the lights of Wichita further south and Topeka off to the east.  If he flew higher still, he could see all the way to the coasts.  

Today, though, he just felt like cruising at around thirty-five or forty thousand feet and watching the sunrise, on what promised to be a beautiful summer day.  Clark slowed down until he was hanging almost motionless and flipped over onto his back.  He drifted, ever so slowly, as he spotted the first faint glimmer of dawn on the eastern horizon; he wondered how he would manage to get away like this once school started in the fall.  Flying was one thing he couldn't live without, now that he had mastered it; it was his reward for a life spent in the shadows, cut off, by necessity, from doing the things most people took for granted.  As he floated, he began to nod off a little; it was so pleasant and relaxing to go where the air currents took you.  Here, Clark was truly in his element; it was quiet, so peaceful…although, at the moment, _there was a most_ _annoying roar_… He opened his eyes and turned his head and saw an F-14 heading straight for him.  He started to dive down under it-

Captain Harmon Rabb, former navy fighter pilot and current lawyer with the JAG corp in Falls Church, Virginia, still flew whenever he could and on this fine summer morning he was heading to La Jolla, California to surprise his mom on her birthday.  He had wanted his wife, Marine Captain Sarah Mackenzie, to accompany him but she couldn't get away for another day or two and he really wanted to see his mom.  He had started out early this morning, thinking to get there in time for lunch.  Harm preferred to miss all the heavy traffic out of Andrews Airforce Base, anyway, and he had so far made good time.  The sun was just coming up behind him as he crossed over eastern Kansas.  At forty thousand feet, the world was a quiet, peaceful place; there was no one to bother you up here…  Harm squinted out the cockpit window; what was that up ahead?  No lights; what could it possibly be?  _A really big bird?__  A really small plane?_  It was barely getting light and he couldn't see well just yet and nothing showed on radar.  Whatever it was, he was going to hit it if he didn't act quickly; he sent the Tomcat into a steep dive-

 Clark suddenly found himself plastered to the canopy of a Tomcat fighter jet, staring into the wide and startled eyes of the pilot.  He'd cracked the canopy glass and had only kept from smashing it completely by grabbing onto the plane itself.  Clark mouthed "Sorry!" then rolled off to one side where he was sucked backward into the engine, his right arm destroying the big blades and causing a fire.    

The plane plunged earthward, spiraling out of control and Harm knew he was out of options.  Down below were farms, houses; people who might die if he ejected now.  He'd try to get to an open field but he suspected he would never make it.  _Why had there been a man at forty thousand feet?  _

Clark raced down below the plane and grabbed on to the underside, spiraling with it a few times before he was able to stop the spin and gradually lift it back up.  As he flew, he looked up through the plane and into the cockpit.  The pilot wasn't trying to radio anyone, he wasn't trying to do anything at all; he was just sitting there, staring out the window.  With a pang of guilt, Clark singled out several key pieces of electronics equipment and zapped them with his heat vision. He carried the plane for a while before he set it down in a remote field somewhere south of Metropolis.  _What am I going to say?_

Harm had just been sitting back for a while now, because it seemed the plane was flying itself.  He'd been unable to do anything to stop the deadly downward spiral when suddenly it had slowed and evened out, all on its own.  It looked like he was heading for Metropolis_.  Never been there._  Abruptly, the plane landed in a field and a young, dark haired man stepped out from under it.  He wore jeans and a red plaid shirt; the right sleeve had been shredded below the elbow.  The man looked up, waved, and gave him a shy little smile.  Harm waved back.  

Clark motioned to the pilot to open the canopy but he just sat there. He yelled, "Open the canopy!" but the pilot stared back at him and didn't move.  "Please, open the canopy," he tried again but there was still no response.  Clark sighed and floated up until he was eye to eye with the pilot.  "Are you okay?  I'm really sorry about the damage.  I guess the engine's totaled, isn't it?"  Clark saw him glance back at the ruins of the engine, then back at his shredded sleeve.    

Harm nodded, _yes,  then_ looked down to see that this guy was indeed floating on thin air.  He had encountered a lot of things in his day, during wartime and peacetime, and he had tried to cope as best he could, but right now, he was at a complete loss.  He had collided with a man at forty thousand feet and would have died if that same man hadn't picked up his plane and put him safely on the ground.  _How was that possible?_  The man in the red plaid shirt wanted him to open the canopy_.  _Harm wasn't sure he wanted to.He wasn't sure he wanted to be out there with theflying red plaid man._  In here, everything was safe and normal;_ _familiar territory, where men flew in planes…not like out there, where the floating man was…_  A little giggle escaped his lips as he tried to comprehend this surreal chain of events.

Clark decided the guy was obviously in shock and he wasn't going to open up the canopy anytime soon.  He didn't want to damage the plane any further by forcing the canopy open so he'd just take the plane and its pilot on to Metropolis airport before it got to be full light and get back home before anyone noticed.   He knocked on the glass to get the pilot's attention.  "I'm going to take you to the Metropolis airport and drop you off, okay?  I'm really, really sorry about this.  Please don't tell anyone what happened; it would make my life a living hell if anyone finds out."  _And my parents would kill me._  "Can I have your word?"

Inside the cockpit, Harm nodded back.  The man disappeared back under the plane and shortly it lifted off and angled back in the direction of the airport, as promised.  Some time later, Harm found his plane setting down on a little used runway on the backside of the airport.  The dark haired man came out from under his plane and rose up into the air, waving as he passed by.  Harm yelled, "Thank you!"He watched as the man in red plaid disappeared from sight.  This time, Harmon Rabb laughed out loud_.  How will I explain this?    _

Clark hoped the guy would snap out of it but he had to get out of there.  He could hear sirens in the distance.  _Maybe Mom and Dad won't find out about this one._  Clark broke the sound barrier on his way back to Smallville.

***

Chloe and Pete pulled up in the Kent's driveway and looked over at the loft window.  On most days, Clark could still be found in his hideaway, contemplating the secrets of the universe, in his last summer before starting college.  It was childhood's end and things would soon change for all of them.  Adulthood was upon them and there was no going back, but for now, in this last long summer of their youth, they would cling to the familiar rhythms of their lives as long as they could.  Hanging out with Clark at the farm, maybe an excursion to the haunted woods or, if lucky, an afternoon at the family swimming hole, had sounded pretty good on this fine day.  Clark, however, wasn't hanging out in the loft window as they had expected.  Chloe was reminded of the Infamous Livestock Incident, for some reason.  Clark hadn't been in the loft window that day either.

***  

As they had driven toward the Kent farm, Chloe's Weirdar had gone on full alert as she had noticed farm animals in various fields becoming strangely agitated.  A family of llamas was hissing and spitting at each other and running up and down the roadside fence.  Pete had commented on several flocks of birds shrieking and flying madly in all directions.  She had seen a herd of sheep running wildly through fields and across gardens, a man and woman chasing after them.   When she had seen that the man had a shotgun she yelled at Pete and he had raced down the road toward Clark's as fast as his old car would carry them.  Several horses on the Potter property were rearing and racing back and forth in their paddock.  Just as they had passed by, the whole herd had broken through a gate and headed down the road behind them in the opposite direction. 

 As they had gotten closer to the Kent farm, Chloe could see what looked like an entire herd of cattle stampeding across a field and suddenly, to her horror, Clark Kent himself had come tearing across the same field on the back of a huge black bull, holding on for dear life.  He had been covered in mud from head to toe, wearing only the slightest remnants of a shirt and an odd expression as he passed by them on his way to the far pasture.  Ordinarily, she might have appreciated that sight but at that moment, she had been terrified for him.  A moment later, Clark had hit the ground hard when the bull bucked him off, rolled over several times, then laid there, unmoving, as Pete and Chloe both raced over to him.  By the time they got to him, he was moving a little and staring off in the distance at the cattle as they disappeared over the horizon.  He had rolled over on his back, staring blankly up at them and for a moment Chloe was sure he'd been seriously injured.  Clark had jumped up then, staggering slightly, as he started back toward the house. 

 "Clark!  What happened?  You ought to sit down for a minute!" she'd insisted.  

"I'm fine, really.  That stupid bull!  I'm gonna go take a shower." And off he had stomped, muttering under his breath.  "Stupid bull!  Stupid, idiot bull!  His muttering became lower and more ominous; "Stupid horses!  Stupid, Stupid sheep!  Stupid pink poodles!"  

When she'd heard that last remark, she was certain he'd gotten a serious head injury.  She'd motioned for Pete to follow him and she'd trailed after, thinking he might collapse.  She couldn't help but notice the rather large hole in the seat of his pants as she walked behind him.  _He was wearing_ _Marvin the Martian boxer shorts; who knew?  _Normally, she might think it cute, even sexy, but right then she had been too worried. When they all got back to the house, Chloe could see his mother on the phone and tried to get her attention.  She heard her say, "I'm so sorry, Fred.  We'll come get him; we'll take care of everything."  Martha had hung up and turned toward Clark as he started up the stairs.  "Clark, that was Fred Smith; he said Luke got loose and trampled all of his square watermelons-" she had stopped in mid sentence, obviously stunned by her son's appearance.  "Clark…what happened?"

They heard him mutter in a low, angry voice, "Those stupid watermelons!"  

She'd leaned in the door and said, "Mrs. Kent!  Clark got thrown by the bull and I think he hurt his head!"

"Stupid bull!" 

His mom had gotten a strange, faraway look in her eye and said, "Really?"  Then she had sort of, well, smirked and raised one eyebrow at Clark's retreating back.  "Well, I'll make sure he's all right, Chloe.  I'll have him call you later."

"I, uh, okay, um, we'll be going…"  Pete had grabbed her arm, tugging her away from the door. 

"Chloe!  I love Clark like a brother, but sometimes, he is like, from outer space!  There are times when his whole family is just _out there_.  Something really bizarre happened here today; I just can't figure out what it was.  So, let's just go, right now.  I think Clark's fine; we'll talk to him later.  Come on."

Reluctantly, she had agreed.  As they walked away, Chloe heard Clark mutter "Stupid Elephant!"  She had tried to go back but Pete dragged her to the car.  She thought she heard Clark yell "Stupid Frogs!" as they pulled away.  Pete skidded on the gravel as he made a sharp turn onto Hickory Lane and took off at a rather high rate of speed.

***

Chloe hoped it wasn't going to be another one of those days.  _Where was __Clark__, this time?_  

Clark's mom leaned out the back door.  "Come on in for some coffee!  Bacon and eggs, if you want it!"

Chloe glanced around the immediate barnyard area.  "Where's Clark?"  

"Oh, he was out early, walking the fenceline, I think."

At that remark, Jonathan looked up from his morning paper and gave his wife a little half smile.  _He's not walking anywhere, these days, if he can help it,_ he thought.  

"You kids have something planned today?"  Martha brought them each a cup of coffee as they sat down at the table.

"Nah," said Pete.  "Just gonna hang out." 

Jonathan got up and headed in to watch the morning news.  As he turned on the TV, there was a live report from the Metropolis airport where a Navy pilot had made an emergency landing in his Tomcat.  Apparently, he had collided with something, somewhere south of Metropolis and he had barely managed to land his crippled plane.  Just then, Clark burst through the door and was up the stairs before Chloe and Pete could even turn around.  

"Clark-"

"Be down in a minute," he yelled.  True to his word, he was back down shortly.  "Hi, guys!  So, what do you wanna do today?"

***  

As soon as he could, Harmon Rabb called to reassure his wife and colleagues that he was all right.   "I collided with something, maybe a bird, but uh, I'm… I'm fine, Mac, really."  In the background, he could hear Bud Roberts saying there had been numerous reports of UFO activity over central Kansas since last year.      

"Bud seems to think it might have been a UFO that hit you!"  Sarah chuckled at that.  "You didn't see any little green men, did you?"  Behind her, Lieutenant Roberts was now reeling off statistics on UFO sightings all across the plains states for the last five years.

"No, uh, no little green men."  _Only red plaid._  "They're looking at the plane, now.  I may be stuck here for a while.  Looks like I won't make it out to La Jolla anytime soon; I need to call Mom.  How's the Lassiter case?"

"Postponed again!  I thought I'd finally be done with it today!  Now I'm at loose ends for a couple of weeks, at least.  Why don't I meet you in Metropolis, say, in a private hot tub suite at the Metropolis Hyatt?"    

"It's a date, marine!"  

As soon as she arrived, Sarah Mackenzie insisted on seeing Harm's damaged plane.  A repair crew was just removing the cracked canopy when they arrived to take a look.  The engine, or what was left of it, was still attached.    

"Wow!  That looks bad, Harm.  My God!  What happened to the engine?  I had no idea…"

"I guess the…bird…must have taken out the engine after it hit the canopy."

"I want to take a closer look."  Marine Captain Sarah Mackenzie was getting a strange feeling about all this.  She wanted an up close look at what had almost killed her husband.   Something was odd here but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.  She started to climb up the maintenance stairway that was next to the engine mount to get that closer look.

"Sarah, our Hyatt hot tub awaits…"

"I just want to see."  She hated mysteries and Sarah Mackenzie had a very weird feeling about this one.  "Must have been one big bird to do this much damage."  

"You'd be surprised at the amount of damage even a small bird can do-"  

Sarah leaned into what little remained of the engine housing and examined a piece of the fan blade that had lodged in the cowling.  There appeared to be a piece of …something, wedged in there; she pulled out a pocketknife and pried at the metal holding it in.  After a moment, she managed to free it.  She stared at it, turning it over in her hand and rubbing it between her fingers.  No one was close by; she pocketed the little scrap.   She turned back toward the cockpit and spotted an odd indentation.

Harm winced when he saw her touching the plane's surface.  _She's seen the handprints.  Oh, boy…_

 

 She leaned closer and touched it, stunned.  It looked like a handprint pressed into the metal skin of the plane.  Her own right hand fit inside its outline.  Not far away was another similar depression; she leaned awkwardly over and placed her left hand over that mark.  After a moment, she turned and climbed back down.  "Okay, Harm, I'm ready to go."  She was silent until they were away from the hangar; then she turned to her husband.  "What made those marks outside the cockpit?"

He tried to look innocent, but failed miserably.  "Marks?"

Sarah pulled the little scrap out of her pocket.  "And tell me, Harm, what kind of bird wears flannel?"

Harm was silent until they got to the car.  "Sarah…"

"Get in; I'm driving.  You're gonna tell me what's going on."

They drove in silence for several miles.  "Okay, sailor, out with it.  There's obviously something going on here that you're not telling me."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because you've been trying to distract me; and there's definitely something weird about all this.  She pulled over, abruptly, to face him.  Sarah pulled out the piece of cloth again and waved it at him.  "How did this get in your engine?  And what made those marks on your plane because they sure looked like handprints to me!  Spit it out!"

Harmon Rabb looked over at his wife, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.  He tried again and sat there with his mouth hanging open; no words would come.  Finally, he sighed and said, "I gave my word I wouldn't say what happened, at least, not all of it.  I doubt you'd believe me if I told you, anyway."

"Try me!"

He gave her a long sideways look and began, "Okay.  Everything did happen just like I said except it wasn't really a bird that hit me.  There wasn't any radar warning and I started to dive to avoid him-"

"Him?"

"There was a man."

"A man?"

"There was a man, flying."

"There was another plane?  Not a bird?"

"It could have been a bird…"

"Harmon Rabb!  You are not making any sense!  Was it a bird or was it a plane?"

"It was a flying man!  He wasn't in a plane!  He was just flying along all on his own!  No plane!"  He laughed, "No wings, either; just floating along until he smacked into the plane.  His face cracked the canopy."

Sarah glared at her husband; "Harm-" then saw how serious he looked.  "Did you hit _your_ head on the canopy?"

"No!  The flying man hit the canopy!  He threw his hands out to stop himself; that must be when he put the handprints on the plane.  He looked right at me and said, "Sorry," then he slid off to the side and his right arm went into the engine.  That's what damaged the blades and caused the fire."

"A man's arm caused all that damage?"

"Yeah."

"What happened then?"

"The plane went into a steep dive and I couldn't pull out; I was just trying to make it to an open field.  He got under the plane and lifted it up and flew it to a cornfield.  He apologized again and begged me not to tell anyone.  Then he carried the plane to Metropolis and set it down on the runway."

"What about his arm?"

"His shirt sleeve was shredded up to the elbow…"

"That's all?  His arm wrecked your engine but he wasn't hurt at all?"

Harm was quiet for a moment.  "No.  Not a scratch, as far as I could see.  Look, I can't explain it; I'm just telling you what I saw.  I know it's unbelievable!  Why do you think I said it was a bird?  Anyway, I promised him.  He did save my life."

"Where did this happen, exactly?"

"Somewhere south of Metropolis."

Sarah reached over and gently touched Harm's face.  "Let's go get in that hot tub, Harm.  We both need to relax."

***

Just as they were settling back in their hot tub, Harm's cell phone rang.  Admiral Chegwidden was on the line with some very bad news: Clark Palmer, former black ops agent and permanent guest of the U.S. Government at Leavenworth Prison in Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, had been reported missing from his cell.  His whereabouts were unknown but a man matching his description had been spotted near Russell Springs.  He was still believed to be in the area, and, most pointedly, he hated Captain Harmon Rabb with a passion.  Harm had discovered him and the group he worked for, had put him in prison and recaptured him when he escaped.  Palmer had returned the favor by trying to kill Harmon Rabb and the people he cared for on more than one occasion and he would do it again if given half the chance.  A manhunt was on and Harm and Mac would soon be in the middle of it.  They were to start by covering the area east of Russell Springs.

***

Despite their late evening, Sarah Mackenzie was packed and ready to go at a very early hour.  "Come on, sailor, let's go!  I'll drive."

"Mac!  It's not even light, yet!"  Harm leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  "Marines…"

"Don't even think you're gonna sleep!  You're navigating, Harm.  It sounds like they're convinced he's heading back east; I want you to keep watch.  Where do you think Palmer would go?  I'm heading southeast for starters."  They followed the interstate for a time, then a state highway.  Four hours later, Harm and Mac found themselves on a county road leading into a farming community called Smallville.  

"Smallville?  Meteor Capital of the World? What's that about?"

" Oh, yeah.  Bud was going on about that, too, before I left Washington.  Seems there was an actual meteor storm here back in 1989 that did quite a bit of damage, even killed some people.  He said it was mainly in this one small area of Kansas.  Kind of odd, huh?"

"Yeah…Hey, Mac, turn here.  What's that over in the field?  Check that out; looks like a Scottish castle!  Why would someone build a castle in the middle of farm country?  That's odd, wouldn't you say?"  Just as they passed by, the massive front gates opened and a black Jaguar came racing down the front drive and skidded a little as it turned onto the county road.  The Jag, driven, they noticed, by a bald man, accelerated and went around Mac and Harm as though they were standing still.  "Wonder where he's going in such a hurry?"

"Definitely not a farmer."  They continued on for a few miles and came to a large meadow filled with circus tents.  "Harm!  A circus!  I haven't been to a circus in years!"  Suddenly, she slammed on the brakes as an elephant charged across the road right in front of them, trumpeting loudly.  A pack of pink miniature poodles, in matching pink tutus, followed close on the elephant's heels, yipping and snapping as they ran.  

Next came the elephant's handler, running after his charge.  "Manju!  Manju!  Come back!  Those nasty little dogs!"  

A woman with pink hair ran close behind, screaming loudly at the elephant man.  "My babies!  Don't you hurt my precious babies!"  She was carrying a pink parasol and when the elephant man turned back toward her, she smacked him over the head with it.  He grabbed the parasol and the two of them wrestled for control.  Before one or the other could gain the upper hand, one of the pink poodles came running back in the other direction, leaped into the air and took a bite out of the elephant man's trousers.  The poor fellow started flailing around with the pink poodle firmly attached while the pink poodle lady whacked him several more times with her deadly pink weapon.  Elephant man made a break for it and took off in the direction of some nearby woods, the poodle still hanging on and poodle lady following, parasol at the ready.  

Harm and Mac just stared.  "Wow."  

A moment later, the remaining poodles ran back across the road, now being chased by the elephant.  As soon as the elephant had crossed the road, they drove on.

"That was…"

"Really weird.  Did you notice they were all wearing tutus?"  Mac burst out laughing.

They drove through a densely wooded area for a while.  Eventually, it gave way to pasture and farmland once more.  About twenty minutes later they came into the downtown area and spotted what looked like a small café.  

"There!  That's exactly what I need; breakfast and coffee, lots of coffee.  Pull over!"

"Hey, that looks like the car that passed us by the castle."  Mac slipped into a space right behind the black Jag.  As they walked by she glanced inside.  "Whoa…now that's odd, too.  Look at the gearshift." 

Mac pointed and Harm followed her gesture.  "That looks like one of those…"

"Pink poodle tutus.  Why-"

"Mac,I don't want to think about this; let's just eat, okay?" 

Harm and Mac walked in to the Talon café and were greeted by a young girl with long dark hair.  It was apparently meant to be an eatery and bookstore combination and parts of it were under construction.  Harm ordered coffee, yogurt and a large blueberry muffin.  Mac ordered a tall mocha latte with an extra shot of espresso, a cappuccino chocolate chunk muffin, two almond biscotti, an orange scone, a bag of shortbreads, a raspberry cream cheese danish and a small brioche.

"Would you like whipped cream on your latte?"

"Oh, yes, thank you!"

Harm glanced sideways at his wife.  

"What?  I'm a marine.  I need to keep my strength up."  

Lex Luthor sat in a back corner of the Talon, nursing his almond mocha latte.  Something about today reminded him of another day, a couple of weeks ago, when animals all over this part of the county had gone crazy for some reason.

***  

Officially dubbed the Infamous Livestock Incident by none other than Chloe Sullivan, now a part time reporter for the Smallville Ledger, it had begun as a seemingly normal summer day.  Sometime that morning, animals and people all over Smallville and surrounding farmlands had been rampaging across fields and up and down roads for no apparent reason.  

            He had been out for a morning drive, with no real destination in mind, when, just as he was leaving the deepest part of Burnham Woods, a coyote had run in front of his car.  Lex had slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding the creature.  The coyote had stopped, looked back at him with wild eyes, and howled long and pitifully before taking off into the woods on the far side of the road.  _Why did_ _the coyote cross the road?  To scare Lex to death_, he had thought idly.  He sat in his car for a minute and was just about to drive on when a wild turkey appeared suddenly and jumped onto the hood, squawking and flapping as it slid off onto the road.  A second turkey had landed on his roof and met a similar fate.  Several more appeared, some landing on his car, some running around it and they had all gobbled and flapped off across the road, disappearing into the underbrush where the coyote had gone moments before.  Lex had waited to see if any other creatures were going to come tearing out of the woods, then turned off the ignition and got out of his car.  He leaned back against the Jag and looked up through the tall trees into the bright blue sky above.  A flock of birds took sudden flight from the trees behind him, screeching as they went.  He had heard a rustling, a loud crack and a sort of whump from the same direction and in the next instant, a wall of water hit him, soaking him completely.  Frogs had then begun to rain down, hitting his car and the ground around him and two nice sized fish had landed in the driver's seat.  The fish had seemed as surprised as he was.  He looked up again.  The sky was still a remarkable blue and there hadn't been a cloud in sight.  

Lex tossed the two fish down into the rank smelling pool of water on the floor of the passenger side.  The driver's seat, covered in the finest Corinthian leather, had squished when he sat down.  A glob of pondweed was wrapped around the accelerator pedal and he had to step into a puddle on his side to reach it.  Like Chloe Sullivan, Lex had his own kind of Smallville Weird-O-Meter and it was telling him that _weirdness was reaching critical levels_.  Before a plague of locusts descended on him, he'd decided to turn the Jag around and just head home.  There seemed to be some rustling in the bushes along the roadside as he started back in the other direction, though he couldn't tell from what.  Lex decided he wanted to get to the other side of the woods really fast.  

When he had reached the far edge of the woods he encountered a roadblock.  Elephants were trumpeting loudly and a man was trying to lead one of them back out of the roadway.  As soon as the elephant moved off, he saw a bevy of small pink poodles in matching tutus launching themselves into the air in a frantic attempt to…what?  He noticed one poodle had been missing its little tutu and their owner, a large woman with pink hair, had seemed most upset.  She was screaming, "That man!  That pervert!  He took my baby's tutu!"  An elephant trumpeted, once more, in the distance.

_Weirdo-O-Meter, redlining_.  Lex had backed up and reversed course yet again, preferring another trip through Burnham Woods, Smallville's own little Bermuda triangle, to that.  When he had cleared the woods completely, he slowed down a little and he'd had to admit, felt a sense of relief.  As he approached Nell Potter's farm, a herd of horses had thundered down the road toward his car and he'd swerved into the ditch to avoid them.  It looked like the entire herd had gotten loose.  A group of llamas lined up along the fence as he was trying to maneuver the Jag out of the ditch and began spitting angrily at his car.  Nearby, a herd of sheep crested a hill.  A very angry woman with a broom was running after them, screaming, "My roses!  My prize roses!"  A man wielding a shotgun followed, blasting away as he ran.  The Jag shot out of the ditch and Lex tore off down the road as fast as he could go.

Just then Pete Ross had come barreling down the road in his old car, a wild look in his eye.  Chloe Sullivan had been in the front seat beside him and as they passed by she'd looked directly over at Lex, her brow furrowed, a strange, almost pleading, expression on her face.  _What had_ _that been about?_  The Kent farm was just up ahead and Lex badly needed to pull over for a few minutes.  As he slowed to make the turn into the driveway, he saw Clark Kent leading a huge black bull over a small rise near the house.  Actually, it had looked more like Clark was _dragging_ the bull by one great horn until he stopped and started fiddling with its nose ring.  When Clark glanced up and saw him, he'd grabbed the ring and started down the hill toward the house.  

As Clark drew near, Lex had been astonished.  He was covered with mud from head to toe, there was really nothing left of his shirt, and he had an odd expression on his face; a kind of a smirk, actually.  They had stared at each other for a while.  When Lex had asked him what happened, all he'd said was, "It's nothing, really; I'm fine.  The bull got out," as if that explained his deplorable condition.  He had expressed a momentary interest in the catch of the day, but Lex had no explanation for that so, eventually, Clark had stomped off with the bull in tow.  He really hadn't been in a very good mood, at all.  Lex stared after him and noticed there was a huge hole ripped in the very back of Clark's pants.  _He was wearing Marvin the Martian_ _boxer shorts; who knew?_  When he turned to go back to his car, Lex had spotted something pink in the mud by the drive.  Closer inspection revealed it to be a tiny pink tutu, _much like the ones worn by the pink poodles_.  

Lex threw the little tutu into the car where it landed on the shift lever.  He jumped into the Jag and sped off.  When he turned onto Hickory Lane, he gunned the little car and by the time he hit the infamous Loeb Road Bridge, he was going as fast as he could.  Whatever had happened, one thing was certain: _the Weird-O-Meter had just gone off the charts.  _

***

His musings were interrupted when he became aware of a strikingly beautiful woman with short brown hair and her companion…husband, perhaps.  Lex, always the observer, was immediately curious about them.  _Now, what were these two doing in Smallville?  Starving, apparently, by the looks of the woman's order._  He watched as they made their way over to a booth near the window, sitting so that the man faced in Lex's direction.  Lex nodded in acknowledgement and was about to say something when he saw Whitney Fordman walk in.  Lana gave him a quick hug and they sat down at a nearby booth.  Lex leaned forward, hoping to eavesdrop.

"What brings you back so soon?  I thought you were in Metropolis for three more weeks."

"Ah… I'm helping out with the Super Summer Sale Extravaganza.  My cousin Brad is managing full time, now, but he wanted extra help for the big event.  So, who's around?  What's everybody been up to?  Has Clark Kent been riding any bulls, lately?"  He laughed out loud at the memory. 

"That was so strange…animals everywhere were acting crazy that day.  Chloe's calling it the Infamous Livestock Incident.  I asked Clark what happened, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it.  I'll never forget the sight of him, covered with mud, riding that bull across the field."  

Lex had to add, "Covered with mud and half naked."  

Whitney grimaced.  He had been looking out Lana's upstairs window for some peculiar bird she thought she'd seen earlier.  She had handed him the binoculars and told him to keep watching for it when he'd spotted Clark, desperately clinging to the back of a big black bull, muddy and practically shirtless, as the bull carried him off across the pasture.  When he'd commented, "Hey, isn't that Clark Kent?  Looks like he lost his shirt-" Lana had yanked the binoculars away from him so hard, she'd almost strangled him with the strap.  Unconsciously, he rubbed his neck; he still had a mark there.

Lana looked over at Lex, "You saw him, too?"

"Yeah, I was out for a drive that morning; I ended up in the ditch trying to avoid your horses."

"Sorry about that Lex.  We never did figure out what spooked them.  Were you okay?"

"Well, Lana, I didn't lose my shirt." He smiled a predatory little Lex smile.

Lana, mildly embarrassed, turned back to Whitney and rolled her eyes.

Harm and Mac had been following this discussion with interest.  Obviously, the bald guy in the back was the same one who'd been driving the car out front.  There was an unusual dynamic here; Lex, she'd called him, was older but they all seemed to know each other well.  Mac leaned forward suddenly.  "Harm, I recognize that guy, now.  That's Lex Luthor, father's Lionel Luthor," she whispered.  

"You mean, the exceedingly rich and famous Lex Luthor?  Wonder what he's doing here?"

Lex got up and headed for the door, smiling at Lana and Whitney as he walked by.  

Mac stood up.  "I need to get something from the car; I'll be right back."  

Harm watched her walk by the Jag and glance inside as she passed by.  

Just then, Clark Kent and Chloe Sullivan rounded the corner near the Talon café.  Chloe was desperate for her morning latte and Clark had just needed to get out of the house.  They watched as Lex tore off down the street, Chloe shaking her head.  "Clark, does that guy ever drive slowly?"

"Not very often."  They nodded to a lady standing in front of the Talon and started to head inside.  "Hey, Whitney's in town."

Chloe looked up just as her cell phone rang.  "Hello?  Yeah, he's right here.  Clark, it's your mom."

Inside, Harmon Rabb watched the tall, dark haired fellow and his short, blond companion walk by the front window.  He noted, with interest, that the man was wearing a red plaid shirt, _much like the one…_but this was farm country and probably half the town wore similar shirts.  He leaned over to get a better look but he couldn't see his face.  Outside, Sarah Mackenzie was thinking the same thing as she watched the tall man walk by.  _Still…_

Clark stopped walking and started looking very disgusted.  "You're kidding!  Again?  Okay."  He let out a long sigh and handed the phone back to Chloe.

"What's wrong, Clark?"

"That stupid bull is loose again!  I am getting so sick of chasing after that bull-"

"Okay, okay, calm down; which way did he go?" 

"Mom got a call from one of the neighbors."  He sighed again.  "Looks like he might be headed in this direction."

"Well, let's see if we can head him off at the pass!"  She smiled up at Clark, trying to lighten his mood.  "How can I help?"

"Ah…you go get your latte and I'll meet you back here after I find him."

"Clark, the last time that bull got out-"

"I know, I know; I'll be careful."  He smiled down at her.

"You'd better be!"  She hugged him tightly before she let him leave.  Reluctantly, she went inside the Talon.

"Hi, Chloe.  Something wrong?  Clark seemed…unhappy."

"Luke got out again.  I think Clark is really getting tired of chasing escaped animals." 

Whitney laughed.  "Maybe he's just tired of being half naked."  Lana and Chloe both glared at him and he looked away.  

Sarah Mackenzie was just heading back inside when she heard people shouting down the street.  She walked back to the curb to see what was going on; there was a large cloud of dust in the next block and something seemed to be coming her way.  A moment later, a large black bull came charging down the street dragging the tall, dark haired man behind him on a long tether.  The poor fellow was being tossed from one side to the other, smacking into cars, curbs and parking meters as he went by.  _That's gotta hurt._  "Let go!" she yelled, but the man held on as the bull continued down the street.

Inside the café everyone ran to the window.  Chloe and Lana gasped; they all ran out the door and took off running down the block. 

 Before long, the bull stopped and turned, swinging Clark around in a wide arc and causing some serious damage to the outdoor fruit display in front of the local market.  The grocer, _Yuan Li Yun,_ Clark recalled, came running out, screaming a blistering oath in Chinese.  Clark noticed his right foot was stuck through the bottom of an orange crate and he was dragging it with him down the street.  Shortly, Luke and Clark passed by the Talon again where, he saw, there was now quite a crowd.  _Giving them a good show today, aren't you?_  _Maybe I should join the circus._

 Further down the block, a woman was just leaving the old antique shop, recently renovated and now specializing in rare dinnerware, especially fine china.  She stopped in the doorway, screamed when she spotted the bull, and dashed back inside.  Clark could hear the bells on the open door tinkling clearly on the morning air.  The bull slowed, attracted by the sound.  "No, Luke, no!" he pleaded, as he rolled to the far side of the street.  Frantically, Clark wrapped his legs around the base of a parking meter and for a moment he thought he had stopped the bull's advance.  

Harmon Rabb skidded to a halt a few feet away, Whitney right behind him.  Clark glanced over at him and his eyes widened in shock.  _The pilot!_  _What is he doing here?_  The bull picked that instant to charge and Clark, momentarily distracted, lost his hold on the parking meter.  The meter pole bent and Clark was pulled along its length and over the top.  Harm and Whitney winced and a collective groan was heard from every man nearby as Clark was yanked out into the street.  _Well, I got rid of the orange crate._  He grabbed the tether further up and as he reached the other side, tried to latch onto another meter as the bull entered the shop.  This time, Clark's grip held but the meter itself gave way.  As he was dragged through the doorway, the meter, still in his hand, smashed the glass and splintered the doorframe.  The door, now hanging by a hinge, leaned to one side.  

Once inside, with no one but the hapless proprietor as a witness, Clark pulled the bull up short.  Luckily, they had somehow missed the most expensive pieces in the front corner of the store.  A couple of massive oak display cases had been hit but damage was surprisingly light.  Clark grasped Luke tightly by one horn and dragged him toward the doorway.  A huge cloud of dust rolled out the front entrance as the owner came running out, screaming loudly.  That spooked the bull and Clark grabbed for the tether again as Luke bolted outside.  As he passed through the ruined doorway, Clark's left foot punched through the door, ripping it off its remaining hinge and dragging it along behind him.  Luke was now traveling at a fairly rapid pace and heading back in the direction of the farm.  _At least we're heading home._  

Chloe had the presence of mind to jump in her car and take off after Clark.  About a mile outside the town limits she came upon him; the bull was standing still and Clark was lying in the road, still hanging on to his tether.  She jumped out and ran to him just as he rolled over and sat up.  He was covered with dust and he looked really, really angry.  In fact, Clark's eyes looked almost…red… as though they were…glowing, for a second.  "Clark!  My God, Clark, are you hurt?"

"No, just really dirty."

"Look at me."  _His eyes seem normal, now.  Must have been a trick of the light._

"I'm fine."  He gave her a wry little smile.

"Clark, say something; what are you thinking?"

He looked back at the bull.  "Barbecue." 

She threw her arms around him, laughing and crying at the same time.  "Looks like you lost your shirt again."

"My pants have seen better days, too."  He stood up and hugged her, laughing at last.  "Chloe, I'm really okay, honest.  Let me take Luke home and get cleaned up.  I'll have to talk to Mrs. Schuster and Mr. Yuan about the damages.  Oh, and I guess I'd better call about those parking meters, too.  Uh, maybe we could do something tonight?"

"Geez, Clark, it's really a miracle you weren't hurt…  All right…the circus is still here; wanna waste some money on the midway trying to win me a tacky stuffed animal?  And there's a trapeze artiste in the bigtop tonight!  He's supposed to be really good!"  Chloe was practically bouncing now.

"Okay, Okay," he laughed.  "I'll call you."  He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss.  "Now go on, I'm fine."

Chloe got back in her car, looking back once before she drove away.  _After all these_ _years, there was still something so odd about Clark Kent…and weird things just always seemed to happen around him._

 Clark took the bull's rope and started walking toward home.  The bull was calm now, walking slowly ahead of him, as though he were a dog out for a stroll_.  That bull just has it in for me.   I can't wait to tell Mom and Dad.  And what about the pilot?  Did he recognize me?  Why was he in Smallville?_  As he drew near to the house, Clark saw his mom and dad both waiting for him on the front porch.

"Clark!  We got a phone call from Mr. Yuan."

_Great._

Two hours later, as he was returning from town after speaking with the shop owners, Clark stopped in a field across from the circus.  The star of the show was practicing for the afternoon performance and he had to admit, the fellow was good.  _It was like coming off the high dive.  Or playing around at thirty thousand feet._  Clark wouldn't have time to go up, today, but he smiled at the thought.  

***

That night, Clark made good on his promise to take Chloe to the circus.  The trapeze and high wire artiste had just joined the circus and after his spectacular matinee performance, he was giving an encore presentation for the evening crowd; Chloe couldn't wait to see him.  She had always been fascinated by the high wire acts and reports of the afternoon show filled her with anticipation.  Being here with Clark made the evening a success already, and the noisy circus crowd just added to the excitement.  Clark was currently trying to win the stuffed animal she had earlier requested by shooting a raygun at little green skinned aliens who bobbed up and down behind their spaceship as they awaited their doom.  His lethal aim dispatched them all in short order and Chloe picked a gigantic stuffed E.T. as her prize.  It was almost as big as Chloe herself and naturally, Clark ended up carrying it for her.     

  Everyone, it seemed, had turned out to watch The Great Joaquim, direct from Mexico City and a man of some renown.  He had, at one time, indeed been a formidable talent as aerialists go; but of late, the Great Joaquim had been somewhat down on his luck.  After a bad accident and long recuperation he had ended up plying his trade at small circuses across the Midwest.  He wanted desperately to return to larger venues but a little drinking problem he'd acquired during his recovery was keeping him from his former glory.  His afternoon performance had been superb but now, as the evening show time drew near, so did his doubts.  The Great Joaquim sometimes lost his nerve and he had a tendency to dive into a bottle to get it back.  Tonight was no exception and he was fairly well flown with less than two hours to go until his appearance.  Joaquim actually cut quite the dashing figure in his black tights and cape.  A black mask completed his costume and a little moustache, fake though it was, added to his mystique.  He had gotten dressed, valiantly determined to make his entrance but was now lying semiconscious on his cot and moaning.  His fear had overcome him, once again, and his fear would likely get him fired.  

Clark and Chloe were strolling down the midway, Chloe licking a large ice cream cone and holding one for Clark whose arms still held E.T.  Chloe walked along, holding out Clark's ice cream cone and he would lean forward, trying to get a lick before she bounced out of reach.  He was getting more ice cream on his face than in his mouth and he was tempted to pick her up as well, just to get her to hold still.

"Chloe!  It's hard to hit a moving target-"  

She stopped abruptly and the cone ended up in Clark's face.  He attempted to lick off what he could.  Chloe giggled and reached up to wipe the ice cream off with her finger.  "Sorry."  She scraped the ice cream on to his lower lip and he licked that off, as well.   Chloe was becoming rather distracted by that tongue when she heard the barker announce that the show was about to begin.  "Um …I…guess we'd better get in there," she mumbled, staring at him and starting to have thoughts that had nothing to do with the circus.

"Chloe!"

"Okay, okay, let's go in…"  The stands were packed and they had to climb over several people to get to their seats.  Once there, they had to sit quite close together in order to accommodate E.T.  

"Chloe, I'm all sticky; I'm gonna go wash my face before the show starts."  Clark stood up and put E.T. down in his place.  "Save my seat!"  He smiled down at her.  _What is Chloe staring at?  _ "I'll be quick, I promise!"

***

 Next to the popcorn stand, on the far side of the midway, stood Harmon Rabb and Sarah Mackenzie.  Mac had cajoled Harm into stopping at the little circus after deciding to stay at Smallville's only motel for the night.  Something about those pink poodles in tutus had tickled Sarah and she wanted to see them again.  Harm had other things on his mind and Clark Palmer was uppermost among them.  Mac was well aware of how dangerous Palmer was but she was better able to turn her attention to other things, if only briefly.  Right now she was consuming a huge bag of cotton candy and laughing as she watched the poodles assemble in preparation for their grand entrance.  

"Hey, Harm, isn't that the guy who got dragged by the bull?"  She pointed to the far side of the midway and Harm turned to look.  They saw the back of a tall dark haired fellow, in a plaid shirt, walking away from them.  "He sure likes plaid."

"Could be.  He looks different without all that dust…"

One of the pink poodles turned, spotted the tall man and started to bark furiously as it leaped up in to the air.  Curiously, the man put his hand over the seat of his pants and took off running.

"Wow, he's really fast."  Mac stared after him, then grabbed Harm by the hand and pulled him toward the bigtop entrance.  "Come on, let's go see the show; I want to see the pink poodle performance."

They entered the tent, passing by the poodles and a number of clowns, all lined up for the start of the show.  Inside, the Ringmaster was beginning and the clowns were running in, throwing candy out to one and all as they passed by.  Mac caught a giant lollipop from a clown with a huge red nose and giggled like a schoolgirl.

***

At the other end of the midway, Clark Kent had finally found the washroom.  Now that he was no longer covered with sticky ice cream, he felt much better.  He shuddered, however, at the thought of his near poodle encounter and planned to give them a wide berth on the way back.  Clark was about to speed back to the tent when he heard something, a kind of moaning, from somewhere close.  He looked around and pinpointed the sound as coming from a small trailer, nearby.  A man, dressed in black, was lying on the floor, moaning piteously and saying, "It's time, it's time…"

Clark knew he should get back but the guy was obviously in some sort of distress and Clark just couldn't walk away.  Sighing, he knocked on the door then went inside to see what was going on.  He knelt down and lifted the man into a sitting position.  "Are you okay?  What's wrong?"

The man in black looked up at him, bleary eyed and clearly drunk, and whimpered, "I got scared again.  I was great this afternoon but now look at me!"  He hiccupped loudly.  "I can't even do two shows in a row!"  Now he was starting to cry.  "I was great, once; The Great Joaquim!  Famed in Europe and South America-"

"You're the Great Joaquim?  Why'd you get drunk before a show?"

"Had an accident; fell from the trapeze.  Took so long to get over it; didn't think I'd ever get back up again…"  He hiccupped, repeatedly then flopped back, moaning again.  Clark pulled him up and lifted him onto a cot.  "When they see me, they'll fire me.  That'll be the end.  I just get so scared and I used to be so good, so good; never used to be afraid!  Now I get my courage in that bottle over there.  Can I have it?"  He looked up at Clark, pleading.  "I gotta go on in one hour; my grand entrance; my big chance.  I hafta, hafta…"  Joaquim's eyes slowly lost their focus and he fell back on his cot, out cold, his little fake moustache hanging down, askew, over his upper lip.  

Clark checked his pulse, _good,_ and his breathing, _nice and regular;_ he seemed to be in no danger, just thoroughly soused.  _Well, what do I do now?_  The guy seemed so pathetic.  _How can_ _I help him?_  Clark looked around at the small trailer.  In the corner was a row of his black costumes.  A crazy idea was blooming in Clark Kent's mind; the idea that, for a short time, he could become The Great Joaquim.  _Am I nuts?  Dress up like Zorro or something and pretend to be someone else?  Wearing tights?  Doing things no one would ever suspect Clark Kent of doing?  What am I thinking?  I'm thinking…it might be…fun!  _

He leaned over Joaquim and shook him.  "Joaquim!  Joaquim!  Wake up!  I'll…I'll be back in a little while.  Just…stay there…"  Clark stood up and with one last glance at the costumes in the corner, walked out the door and ran back to join Chloe.  He blazed by the poodles so fast they didn't even see him; only the wretched little FiFi sniffed suspiciously and growled as he passed by.  

Once back in the stands, Clark quickly made his way over to Chloe.  A couple of rows back, he saw Lana and Whitney.  He waved and moved E.T. over so he could sit down.

"What took you so long?"

"The washrooms were all the way at the other end of the field.  Sorry."

"Well, you didn't miss much.  The clowns are running amok and here come the pink poodles."  _Did Clark just sneer?_  "Pete's over there with his latest girlfriend."  She pointed down toward the front.  "I even saw Lex Luthor," she snorted.  Halfway across the arena, he saw Lex and a busty blond standing by an entrance.  They were dressed rather formally for the circus.  "Doesn't he know the meaning of the word 'casual'?"

"Apparently not.  Luthors aren't exactly casual people.  Uh, do you have a program?  When is the Great Joaquim supposed to perform?"

"The Ringmaster just announced that he would be late in the show.  Guess they want to build up the excitement."

Clark sighed in relief; he needed to mentally prepare for his little experiment.  _I can do_ _this.  I can help Joaquim and have some fun. _  

Chloe was having a blast and her mood was contagious.  There were elephants, zebras and horses, lions, tigers and bears.  A pair of beautiful snow leopards performed to the delight of the entire audience and even the pink poodles were actually full of surprises.  Finally, the high wire acts were announced and Clark began to fidget, wondering how he could get away when it was time.

"Clark!  Stop fidgeting!  What's wrong?"

"We've been sitting a long time.  I'm just antsy."

"Well, wanna stretch your legs and get me some popcorn?  I'd love some cotton candy, too; oh, and how about some pop?  Just get back here before Joaquim performs."

"Sure!"  He felt guilty, now.  He was going to miss what Chloe had come to see.  _Ah, but_ _I'll make sure to give her a good show!_

"Thanks, Clark."  _Did he look, kinda, guilty or something?_  There was just no figuring Clark Kent out, sometimes.  She sighed as she watched him make his way down through the stands.

Once outside, Clark raced behind the smaller tents toward Joaquim's trailer.  The poor fellow was still out cold.  Clark went over to the rack of black costumes.  One thing he had not considered was that he was several inches taller than Joaquim; he wondered just how much those tights would stretch.  Suddenly feeling really weird, he put on a pair that had looked rather stretched out to begin with.  They weren't bad but, still, they were a little short… Maybe…maybe if he wore those black briefs on the outside they would help to hold the tights up… _Yes, that was the solution._  Okay, the mask was next; it covered his hair and sort of tied behind his head.  Now he had to attach the moustache, somehow; _what was it they used?_  He went through some bottles on a dresser and found something that said spirit gum.  That seemed to work.  He tried to position it just so and when he added the long, flowing cape, Clark thought he looked rather dashing, at that.  A pair of soft, black boots completed his ensemble, and Clark hurried out the door, carefully locking it behind him.  

He arrived at the entrance just as the Ringmaster was stepping up to announce him.  The Ringmaster looked over at him, praying Joaquim was sober, and spoke to the hushed crowd.  

"And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, fresh from a whirlwind tour of South America where he astounded audiences of young and old alike, the one and only, The Great Joaquim!"

The Great Joaquim stepped into the center ring, to the thunderous applause of the entire crowd and Clark Joseph Kent, of Smallville, Kansas, thought, _I must be insane!_  But on he went, across the sawdust covered ring, until he stood at the base of the poles that held the rigging.  He stopped there and raised his arms to the crowd, once more, and with a flourish, threw his long cape off to the side.  He was now bare to the waist and a chorus of appreciation arose from the ladies in the audience (and some of the men) as he stepped into the foot rig that would carry him to the top.  

Chloe had been looking around for Clark; _he could be so pokey.  _Now, however, her attention was riveted to the man in black in the center ring.  _He does look good…_

Up he went, high above the crowd, still wondering how he should begin.  He had watched enough of Joaquim's practice to have a fairly good idea of his repertoire; Clark, however, had a few ideas of his own.  He intended to make this show a very memorable event.  He began with a few simple jumps from one perch to another then suddenly went higher than anyone had ever gone and did a magnificent quadruple twist with a backflip at the end that brought the crowd to its feet. 

Chloe tore her eyes away from Joaquim long enough to look for Clark again.  _Where on_ _earth was he?  He was missing the best part of the show!_  She looked back up in time to see another absolutely spectacular flip, in the middle of which Joaquim appeared to hang almost motionless for a second.  It almost seemed like the guy could defy gravity. 

As Clark had reached the apex of his arc, he spotted his parents sitting at the far end of the arena.  _I didn't know they were coming._  They were staring, transfixed, as he flew high up into the tent and for a second, he hung there, startled and self conscious.  _No time for self doubt.  On with the show; this is for Chloe!_  Clark came back down and continued with another series of unbelievable midair twists and turns.  When the time came to begin the high wire work, Clark simply let go of the trapeze, making yet another amazing somersault and landed perfectly on the wire itself.  Again, the crowd leaped to its feet and the applause was deafening.  Now, he went along the wire, hand over foot, occasionally doing a somersault or slide, sometimes dropping below the wire to scare the crowd into thinking he was falling.  At one point he even picked up some clubs and juggled while he ran along the wire.  _I could learn to like this…  _But, eventually, he had to bring it to a close; Clark chose a spectacular dismount onto the main rigging pole itself and he spiraled down it, all the way to the ground. 

 There had never been a performance like this, in all the years the circus had been coming to Smallville and the crowd went absolutely wild.  People were screaming and clapping and pandemonium ruled.  The Ringmaster was speechless, staring at Joaquim with his mouth hanging open, eyes wide.  The minute Clark hit the ground he bowed deeply, grabbed his cast off cape and ran for the door.  Behind him, the crowd was chanting for more but Clark, urgently wanting to get back to the trailer and change, never looked back.

Lana Lang was on her feet, trying to get a good view of The Great Joaquim using Whitney's binoculars.  Unfortunately, they had been hanging around Whitney's neck when she grabbed them.  He was now half out of his seat, both hands on the strap, desperately trying to keep from being choked.  He squeaked out, "Lana," but she really wasn't paying any attention.   

In the stands, Chloe was now looking around and starting to worry about Clark.  Not only had he missed Joaquim's incredible performance but he had been gone a really long time.  She glanced around the stands and spotted Clark's mom and dad.  _And what was up with his parental units, anyway?  His dad was leaning forward, his head in his hands, and his_ _mom…well, she just smacked his dad on the arm and frowned, it looked like_.  

            The Ringmaster was trying to get the poodles and the elephants to run around the rings again, to make up for the fact that Joaquim was apparently not coming back for an encore.  The poodles, however, had decided to make a break for it, in all the confusion and the elephants had followed them out the door.    

Harm and Mac were trying to get away from the wild crowd inside the bigtop while they could and they were making their way down and out as quickly as they could.  Once outside, there were still so many people, they could barely move so they headed back behind a row of smaller tents to avoid the throngs.  They passed by a huge old oak tree that must have been in that meadow for hundreds of years.  Beside it was the clown with the big red nose and in his hand was a Glock semi-automatic pistol, aimed right at them.  He motioned to them to move over behind the tree.

"Harmon Rabb and Sarah Mackenzie.  Could it be any easier?  I couldn't believe my good fortune, when I saw you here."

Harm took a protective step toward Mac.  "Clark Palmer."

"Did you miss me, Rabb?  What an amazing stroke of luck!  Now I can kill the two of you together."  He pointed the gun at Mac.  "You first, I think, so Rabb can watch."

Clark Kent had finally gotten outside; people had practically mobbed him while he was trying to leave the tent.  He had ducked back behind the main tent and thought he'd just run along on the far side of the little tents again, where no one could see him.  Just as he reached the old oak he saw a man leveling a gun at a woman, _the woman from the Talon_, and near her stood a man, _the fighter pilot_.  _What is going on?_  

Harm saw a man in black appear beside the giant oak.  _The Great Joaquim?_  Harm saw Palmer's finger tighten on the trigger and he tensed to throw himself in the line of fire.  Palmer fired and at the same moment, Joaquim seemed to just disappear.  Instantly, he reappeared in front of Mac, his hand stretching out and _catching the bullet in midair.  Whoa…_In the next instant, Palmer was sliding down the trunk of the oak tree, where he had been tossed, out like a light.  There was an explosive pop in Joaquim's clenched fist and when he opened it, Palmer's gun fell to the ground, _crushed_, Harm noticed, into a useless hunk of metal and plastic.

Clark turned around and stared at the pilot and his companion.  "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine…"  Harm stared back.  "You're the guy…"

"I gotta go-"

Mac turned toward Harm and mouthed "That's him?"

Harm nodded.  "Wait, please…"

Mac stared, too.  "You…you're a…circus performer?"

"No, not really.  I'm just helping someone out, tonight.  And I have to be somewhere else right now, so if you can take care of this guy… Who is he and why was he trying to kill you, anyway?  As long as we're asking questions."

"Clark Palmer was a rogue agent; I caught him and put him in prison.  Old enemies; they're the worst kind."

"Hope I never have any of those.  Now-"

"I don't suppose you could tell us how you, you know…" 

The pilot made a little motion with his hands that Clark assumed meant "fly."  "Sorry."  In the distance, Clark heard Chloe calling his name.  "Look, I really have to go.  And, um, I am really sorry about the plane."

"I think we're even."

"Nice outfit," Mac added.  _Was he blushing under that mask?_         

An instant later, he had disappeared from sight.  Clark raced back to the trailer at top speed and stepped inside just as Joaquim groaned.  Clark changed hurriedly and bundled his black costume up under his arm.  He leaned over Joaquim and got him to sit up.  "Joaquim!  Listen to me!  About your performance…"

"Oh, I missed my big chance…"  

"No!  You didn't miss it!  You were great!  They loved you!  But you have to stop drinking!  You can't perform if you drink; promise me you'll stop drinking."

Joaquim sobered slightly and stared into Clark's eyes.  "What do you mean, they loved me?  I don't remember…"

"You were…concentrating so hard you didn't realize how well you did…"

"I should remember…"

"Go outside and see.  They're wild about you!"

Joaquim got up and staggered a bit.  "Maybe I'd better rest a little while longer before I go out."

He looked up at Clark, who nodded.  "Just take it easy, for a while, Joaquim.  Now, I gotta go."

"Who are you, again?"

"Just someone who wants to help.  Bye."  Clark left and dumped his costume into a trash barrel outside the trailer.  Next, he zipped by the popcorn stand, grabbing a huge box of popcorn, a giant bag of cotton candy and a large pop, leaving the old man who worked there stunned by the sudden appearance of a wad of money on the counter in front of him.  Clark ran back to the bigtop entrance and fought his way inside.  Chloe was just getting down out of the stands, dragging E.T. beside her.

"Clark Kent!  Where have you been?  I was getting really worried about you!  You missed an incredible performance!  Joaquim was simply amazing!  Unbelievable!  It was like the man could fly!  I've never seen anything like it!  What happened to you?"  

"Sorry I missed everything, Chloe.  The line at the popcorn stand was really long."  He handed her the popcorn and cotton candy and she handed him E.T.  

"Our child missed you.  Can I have a sip of pop?"

Clark offered the pop and smiled down at her_.  She wasn't going to be too mad; good._  "So this guy was really good, huh?"

Chloe smiled.  "Oh, yeah.  Best I've ever seen and we used to go to the big circus in Metropolis all the time."

Two ladies ahead of them were going into great detail regarding The Great Joaquim's abilities, not all of which were directly related to his skill on the trapeze.  In fact, that last comment made Clark blush.

Chloe looked up at Clark, narrowing her eyes.  Something was weird, here…and was he _blushing?_  Behind them, she heard Lana's voice.

"Well, I'm sorry, Whitney.  I didn't mean to pull so hard."

"You nearly strangled me!"

Chloe and Clark turned around to look.  Whitney was rubbing an awful red mark on his neck.

"I was just trying to get a better look at The Great Joaquim."  When Lana looked up and saw Chloe and Clark, she smiled.  Then she reached over and grabbed the binocular strap and dragged Whitney along behind her as she quickly headed for the entranceway.  They could hear his yelps of pain and protest as they disappeared from sight.

"Hey, I saw your parents.  I didn't know they were coming."

"Neither did I.  Hope they enjoyed the show."

"No offense, Clark, but they were acting a little weird.  Your dad seemed…upset; maybe he just had too much cotton candy."

"Maybe… "  Clark gave her a weak little smile.

Clark heard the pink poodles as they came outside.  Nervous, he looked around and spotted them up ahead, circling around Lex Luthor and his lady friend, who just happened to be holding what appeared to be a dirty pink poodle tutu.  They seemed to be working themselves into a frenzy and were moving in closer.  One of the poodles, in particular, was zeroing in on the lady holding the tutu and Clark just knew it was FiFi.  The pink haired poodle lady came running over to protect her charges from this dangerous woman.  When poodle lady saw FiFi's missing tutu, she began screaming and FiFi made her move.  She leaped up, snagging the tutu, and ran off down the midway, holding it up triumphantly for all to see.  Clark breathed a sigh of relief; as he watched the poodles run away.  He had thought, for a moment, that the dog was going to take a bite out of that woman's-

"Eeeeeeee-"

He turned back at the woman's squeal and saw an elephant goosing her with its long trunk.  She turned and slapped Lex, who'd had nothing at all to do with it, and stomped off.  Lex looked over at Clark and Chloe, uncertain, for once, about what had just occurred.  Clark shrugged his shoulders back at Lex, then turned to Chloe.  

"Chloe, I think I've had enough of this circus, for one night.  Let's go home and hang out in the loft for a while."

"Wanna get out the telescope?"

Clark smiled down at her.  "Maybe…"

It was, after all, Kansas in the summer, and the sky was filled with stars.

*** 

With respects to Maveness.  


End file.
